


Right Place, Wrong Phone

by littledragon94



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, High School AU, Modern AU, Phone Swap AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledragon94/pseuds/littledragon94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arianne Martell's parties are the social gathering event of the term. Everyone goes, everyone parties, and everyone gets drunk. Margaery wakes up the next morning and finds that she picked up the wrong phone.<br/>Based on a Tumblr prompt I saw ages ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Place, Wrong Phone

The obnoxious vibration of her iPhone snapped Margaery from her hangover induced stupor. It was far too loud for her sensitive head to cope with. She swore, reaching towards her bedside table, and fumbled for it. She peered through her bleary eyes to see who would dare disturb her Sunday morning lie in.

The screen read “Mum”. Margaery’s brow crinkled as she wondered why her mother was calling when they had spoken only yesterday.

‘Hi Mum,’ Margaery answered, her voice gravely, pushing herself into a seated position while her head spun at becoming vertical. Margaery closed her eyes and rested her head in her hand, ear pressed to the phone, and waited for the spinning to stop.

‘Hi darling, are you okay? You sound different.’ The voice on the other end of the phone was most certainly not Margaery’s mother. The accent alone was enough to give that away - where Margaery's mother was as Southern sounding as you could get, this woman sounded somewhat Northern.

‘I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number,’ Margaery replied, before realising that if this woman came up as “Mum” on her phone then the woman must have her mother’s phone. But then again, the photo of her mother didn’t pop up with the caller ID. It was all a bit too confusing for Margaery’s sluggish brain to consider at that point in time.

‘No, this is definitely my daughter’s number.’ There was a pause. ‘How do you have my daughter’s mobile phone?’

The woman’s tone suddenly became rather stern, Margaery felt like she was being told off by a teacher. She subconsciously sat up straighter and glanced at the phone in her hand. Upon closer inspection it was clearly not Margaery’s phone. This one had a chip in the top left of the screen - Margaery’s was in pristine condition, just like all of her possessions.

‘I’m very sorry, I must have picked up your daughter’s phone somewhere,’ Margaery thought back to when that could have happened, in an effort to prove to this stranger that she hadn’t intentionally stolen her daughter’s mobile. ‘Did she go to Arianne Martell’s party last night?’

At some point during the night, Margaery had definitely put her phone on to charge in the kitchen when it had flashed up with the dreaded 20% battery warning. It was always surprising how much battery Snapchat used up. It must have gotten swapped with this other girl’s or something. Margaery had been quite drunk by the end of the night.

‘Yes, she did.’ Margaery sensed some disapproval in the woman’s tone. ‘She said she would be staying over a friend’s house afterwards, but as it is almost lunch time I thought she would be home by now.’

 _Shit_. Almost lunch time. Margaery was surprised that her grandmother hadn’t come in to wake her up already.

‘I’m sure she’s quite alright,’ Margaery reassured the woman. She pushed her duvet off her legs and slipped out of bed, pacing her room in her underwear as she tried to think of a plan to return this phone and hopefully retrieve her own phone. ‘May I ask who your daughter is?’

‘Sansa Stark,’ the woman replied, sounding slightly less tense. ‘Do you know her?’

Margaery racked her brain for a trace of the name. There were lots of people at Arianne’s party that Margaery didn’t know from the other school years. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I know a Robb Stark though.’

‘Robb is my eldest son!’ the woman announced, the relief obvious in her voice. ‘How do you know Robb?’

Margaery grinned to herself at how quickly this woman switched from proud-mother to overprotective-mother. ‘We have History class together. I’m Margaery Tyrell, by the way.’

‘Tyrell? As in the new garden centre?’

‘Yes, my family owns it.’

‘Oh, I love it in there. The selection is fantastic; I’m forever looking for new things to add to the garden.’

‘That’s really great to hear.’ At least she could tell Granny that she has a very happy customer.

Twenty minutes later, Margaery’s door opened and her brother, Loras, popped his curly head into the room mouthing “lunch is ready”.

Margaery gave him a thumbs up and waved him away. ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Stark, I have to go now.’

‘Oh, of course, dear! How time flies when you have such lovely conversation.’

‘Thank you,’ Margaery smiled. Mrs Stark did go on a bit but it had been easy to talk to her, and she was a rather interesting person. It amazed her that Rugby Lad Robb was her son. ‘I’ll drop Sansa’s phone off this evening, if that’s alright?’

Mrs Stark had given her the address much earlier in the conversation before digressing onto the subject of how the neighbourhood had changed since she and her family (there were eight of them, with six dogs) had moved in almost ten years ago.

‘That would be wonderful, thank you, Margaery. Have a good afternoon.’

‘You too, Mrs Stark,’ Margaery replied before she hung up. She noted the lockscreen wallpaper was a large husky, before realising that her bladder was about to explode and sprinting to the bathroom.

Sat at the dinner table almost ten minutes later, Margaery had put on her most comfortable clothes - Hollister yoga pants and one of Loras’ Topman jumpers. The pint of water beside her was doing wonders for her throbbing headache.

‘So, Margaery, how was your evening?’ Margaery’s grandmother, Olenna, asked as she spooned roast potatoes onto her plate. ‘You got back rather late last night.’

Loras waggled an eyebrow at her.

‘Nothing happened, don’t worry, Granny,’ Margaery chuckled, massaging her temples. ‘It was a perfectly civilised house party.’

‘Really, Margaery? You disappoint me, you know I live for gossip.’ Olenna winked at her grandson.

‘You mean to tell us that at a party full of the hormone-fuelled boys and girls from our school saw you last night and didn’t at least try anything?’ Loras frowned. ‘Have they suddenly all become blind? Or nuns? Or blind nuns, for that matter?’

‘Well, there was this one girl,’ Margaery teased, her cheeks reddening. Loras and Olenna looked enquiringly at her. ‘I didn’t catch her name, but she’s tall - maybe six-foot - has red hair, and is an amazing kisser.’

‘That’s what we like to hear,’ Olenna nodded, taking a large bite of a Yorkshire pudding. ‘I was beginning to doubt the standards of this new school I’d sent you to.’

‘Granny!’ Margaery gasped, chuckling despite being used to her grandmother’s remarks.

‘Not to worry, now I know at least one of the students has standards.’

‘What about Renly?’ Loras objected.

Olenna shook her head, dismissing Loras’ boyfriend. ‘Really dear, have you seen that ridiculous beard of his?’

Loras looked indignant as Margaery almost choked on a parsnip.

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon when Margaery found herself presentably dressed and across town to drop off the phone. She double checked the address Mrs Stark had given her, climbed out of her red Audi and approached the door. She ran a hand through her long brown hair and waited for someone to answer the doorbell.

What she was not prepared for, however, was for the door to open and for a six-foot tall red-head to be standing in the opening. Margaery’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.

‘Uhh...’ The girl stared, her eyes widening as she took in Margaery. The girl was barefoot, in some baggy joggers and a Winterfell Direwolves hoody, her hair up in a messy bun. Margaery thought she looked pretty damn cute, and it was obvious that she remembered Margaery from last night - that was always good for the ego.

‘Sansa, I presume?’

The girl nodded, still staring at Margaery like an astonished tomato. A smirk spread uncontrollably across Margaery’s face at quite how red the girl was becoming.

‘We didn’t really get to talking last night. I’m Margaery, and I believe I have something of yours.’ Margaery raised the hand holding the girl’s phone, offering it to her.

‘Thanks,’ the girl managed, taking the phone from Margaery’s hand. ‘Uh, I guess I have your phone then. I must have picked up the wrong one when I left.’ She stepped back from the door and picked up Margaery’s phone from the table in the hall. As Margaery took the phone from Sansa she allowed their fingers to touch, and as a result, Sansa nearly dropped the phone. The girl wasn’t nearly as anxious about touching her the night before, Margaery recalled, slipping the phone into her jacket pocket.

‘Sansa? Oh, is that Margaery?’ Mrs Stark’s voice called from somewhere in the house, a moment before a middle-aged red-headed woman bustled towards them. ‘Lovely to put a name to a face,’ Mrs Stark smiled, placing a hand on Sansa’s shoulder and standing behind her.

‘You too, Mrs Stark. Your house is lovely, by the way,’ Margaery noted, never one to forget her manners. She looked between Sansa and her mother, and noted that Sansa looked as though she wanted to melt into the floor.

‘You’re too kind. Would you like to see the garden?’ Sansa’s eyes got so wide Margaery briefly wondered if it was possible for your eyes to fall out.

‘No, thank you, I can’t stay long,’ Margaery lied. She literally had nowhere to be, other than back home in bed.

‘Not a worry, dear. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll leave you two to it, I’ve just put the dinner on.’ With a wave, Mrs Stark hurried off to tend to her cooking.

‘Sorry about that,’ Sansa murmured, looking at her feet. ‘Mum’s never usually that friendly.’

‘What can I say, I have a way with parents.’ Margaery shrugged. ‘Though I wasn’t expecting the woman I spoke to this morning to turn out to be your mother.’

The corner of Sansa’s mouth lifted up into a small shy smile, her eyes still fixed on the floor.

Margaery realised that she wasn’t going to get anywhere flirting with Sansa on the doorstep of her parents’ house, and she definitely wasn’t going to get a repeat of last night’s spectacular round of tonsil tennis.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to your dinner then,’ Margaery said, feeling a little awkward. That never happened. Margaery was always the one to make others doubt themselves and walk away embarrassed that maybe they had said something wrong, or that they weren’t as big a deal as they thought they were.

Margaery turned away from Sansa and walked to her car, trying not to walk too quickly in case she looked like she was running away (which she totally was), when she heard: ‘Margaery?’

Margaery spun around. ‘Yes?’

Sansa carefully closed the door behind her and tiptoed across the cold ground towards Margaery.

 _Oh my gods_ , Margaery thought to herself, her mouth going dry. _Am I in a fucking rom-com?_

Sansa stopped just in front of Margaery and raised the phone in her hand. ‘Could I get your number? I mean, I totally get it if you don’t want to- I just- at the party and-’

Margaery blinked at how fast the girl was talking. ‘Yes! I mean, we’ve already swapped phones, so sure.’ She took the phone from Sansa’s hand and tapped in her number. She handed back the phone and caught the small smile that Sansa was trying to hide. ‘Drop me a text sometime.’

‘Okay,’ Sansa nodded, looking between Margaery and her phone.

Margaery turned around and walked the remaining few steps to her car with far more confidence than before. Behind her, Sansa returned to her house, waiting in the doorway as Margaery started the engine. Margaery watched Sansa wait for her to drive away in the rear view mirror.

As Margaery pulled away and headed home, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She smiled all the way home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I dug out from my many half-written AUs and finally decided to publish.  
> Thoughts, as always, are appreciated :)


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